


Devilish Smile

by ThatOneOctopus



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Angel Zenigata, Angst, Confused Human Jigen, Demon AU, Demon Fujiko, Demon Lupin, Fluff, Getting Together, Lupin still just wants to steal things, Monster/Demon Hunter Goemon, Multi, Torture, Violence, demons learning how to feelings, lots of magical nonsense, may add ships later, maybe smut but the level of detail is at my whim, stuff with souls, we don't need no beta let the motherf---er burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:01:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22179733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatOneOctopus/pseuds/ThatOneOctopus
Summary: It only takes one poor job choice to change everything.Jigen didn't believe in demons and magic twenty-four hours ago, but after a particularly bad night he has little choice but to believe, now that his soul is bound to a (supposedly) very dangerous demon.Lupin just wanted to mix things up for his latest stint on earth, but he's quickly finding himself getting attached to this human for reasons he can't quite work out, even with all his intelligence. If he doesn't figure it out quick, he may lose the chance forever, as there's a steep price to pay for being bound to a demon.
Relationships: Arsène Lupin III/Mine Fujiko, Jigen Daisuke/Arsène Lupin III
Comments: 13
Kudos: 50





	1. Pleased To Meet You

**Author's Note:**

> And now for something nobody asked for! 
> 
> Those who have seen my work before know I love me some weird AU scenarios, and this is one that has been tickling the back of my brain for months now. I have no idea how frequently I'll update it, or if the chapters will become short like my usual style, but I just needed to get this out of my head and typed because it would not leave me alone. 
> 
> I have a rough idea of where this is all going, but who the hell knows how things will develop. Fics are funny that way.
> 
> As an added note, I don't think I could pinpoint them all if I tried, but a number of moments and ideas throughout this come from Liz_Tudor, who enabled me through writing this thing and provided suggestions along the way.

Jigen was no stranger to poor decision-making, but this was impressive even by his standards. 

The first thought to drift across his mind upon regaining consciousness was wondering just how drunk he must have been when taking this job, to not realize it was bad news from the start. Sure, some people were just twitchy and nervous when putting a hit on somebody, especially if it wasn’t something they were accustomed to -- but that guy should have raised some red flags. He'd been vague about who he worked for, very insistent on the time and place, and said the whole thing should be nice and simple; of course it had been a set up. Jobs that people claim will be easy often had something else going on behind the scenes, but for some stupid reason Jigen hadn’t thought anything of this one, and now he was paying the price. He would’ve kicked himself if he could.

Unfortunately, a few subtle twitches were enough to tell him he was well and truly restrained: bound by the wrists, ankles, and knees, with some sort of gag to keep him quiet. The surface he was on felt like concrete, and he could smell blood in the air, but he didn’t dare open his eyes to look around just yet in case he was being watched. 

Instead, he took a moment to wonder who he had pissed off this time. There were certainly more than a few people out there who would love to have him trussed up like this, but who had he angered recently with the influence and patience to go to the trouble of taking him alive? That was a more complicated question, and one that his newfound headache wasn’t eager to let him think about, sending lances of pain from where he’d been struck in the back of the head. 

He’d only managed to mentally list a few possible candidates before he was interrupted by the sound of a door slamming, and his blood ran cold at just how many sets of footsteps followed. That many people wouldn’t be brought together for a simple interrogation or to kick someone around; a crowd like this would be needed for a warning, for an execution.

He took a deep, steadying breath, and finally dared to open his eyes.

It both was and wasn’t what he expected to see: some sort of poorly-lit warehouse, a typical kind of place for illicit activities, but… what was on the floor? Candles were arranged around the room, and something -- he suspected it was blood, judging by the smell -- was smeared on the concrete in some kind of pattern he couldn’t quite make out from where he lay.

But that wasn't the truly weird part. No, the weird part was the appearance of the people he'd heard coming in, as every one of them was dressed in hooded robes. A few of them were talking to each other in voices too low for him to properly hear, but for the most part they all just started spreading out around the room, ignoring him as far as he could tell. 

When one of the hooded figures spread his arms and called out in what sounded like Latin, all the others responded at once, also in Latin, and Jigen had to resist the urge to groan in exasperation. The pieces were coming together, and he really hated the picture they formed. 

This wasn't seriously a _cult,_ was it? How the fuck had he managed to get kidnapped by a goddamn cult? He'd have to try and kill all of them, if only to keep anyone from finding out about this whole embarrassing mess. Hopefully, if they acted as cliched as they looked, there would be some kind of stupid ceremonial dagger involved if they planned to kill him, and he could absolutely use that opportunity. It was just a waiting game as the bathrobe brigade did… whatever the hell they were doing.

Finally, the man who had addressed the group seemed to notice him, letting him glimpse a smile under the hood when the man moved forward. "Don't fear, child. Your death will serve a far greater cause."

Oh for fuck's sake. This guy was really lucky Jigen was still gagged, or he would be getting eviscerated by sarcasm right now, with some insults thrown at whatever bullshit god these people worshipped for good measure. As it was, he could only roll his eyes, but the gesture was ignored.

At that point, the cultists all started chanting in unison, and _oh_ that did not help Jigen's headache one bit. Through the stabbing pain of noise, he slowly realized most of the words being spoken weren't Latin this time, but French, and he immediately struggled to get his brain on-track enough to decipher any of it. He hadn't needed French in years, and he'd never been very good at it to begin with, but he could catch a lot of mentions of a wolf, and… something about a spirit? A soul, maybe? Blah blah darkness, something something prince of… something. As far as he could tell, it was all just supernatural babbling; something to drill painful noise into his aching head and make this experience even worse.

He was starting to really wish they'd hurry up and try to cut his heart out or whatever they were going to do, when suddenly the blood on the floor began to glow.

Struggling to sit up, Jigen finally looked around at the markings, his rational mind searching for some explanation that would silence the strange primal fear stirring in his chest. Unsurprisingly, he was in the middle of some kind of pentagram, because of fucking course he was, linked to a symbol that was now pulsing like a heartbeat. A picture of a wolf, with many slithering appendages coming out of its back that all ended in human hands. Something about the image made his own heart pound, flight or fight instincts kicking in even though he didn't know what to be afraid of, barely registering the chanting in the background anymore.

Was it… moving? It couldn't be, right? The scrawled picture couldn't be peeling up off the floor, couldn't be warping and growing and changing shape. It couldn't be turning into a _person_ as he watched, trying and failing to spot any sign of visual trickery going on.

He was slightly aware of the cultists all falling to their knees, but most of his attention was firmly fixed on the man who had just fucking _materialized_ from a drawing on the floor.

Thin, but not unhealthily so, the man wore a suit with a brightly-colored jacket and the kind of smile that only came easy to people in charge, fitting strangely well on his somewhat goofy face. But the alarming parts were the pointed ears, the horns on his head, and the stereotypical devil tail gently swishing back and forth behind him. The other things could be explained away with makeup, but the _tail…_ How could it be moving like that, like it was real?

He didn't have long to dwell on logic and questioning his sanity however, as the stranger's eyes were now locked on him, that smile growing ever-so-slightly to reveal sharply pointed teeth.

"Well good _evening,_ everybody," the man purred, though his gaze didn't move. "You got me quite a catch here!"

Jigen bristled as the stranger stepped forward to slowly circle him, surveying him with a look he'd seen before and always hated, though he was never in a position to object. At least this time he could glare, but… Somehow he felt like he wasn't just being looked _at,_ but _into._ He felt strangely open under those eyes, making his skin crawl with the desire to get away, as though every blood-soaked corner of his life was being laid bare. It took all his willpower not to squirm.

The cultist who had spoken to him before addressed the man in French, to which the stranger replied in kind, still studying Jigen like a cat with a cornered mouse. It was hard to listen for any familiar words, as the stranger's tail lazily swished and brushed along his cheek, making his heart skip a beat at how _real_ it felt. But it couldn't be; demons didn't exist. They _didn't._ Maybe he'd been drugged or something, and that was why his insides felt like they were trying to tie themselves into one big anxious knot. Maybe…

The stranger had circled around to stand in front of him again, nodding as the cultist leader spoke more French. "Hmm… Y'know what I'm thinking? We should chat."

He curled one finger in a beckoning motion and the gag suddenly dropped away, severed at the back as Jigen flinched in surprise. The cultists started exchanging nervous, confused looks.

"So, you don't seem too happy to be here," the stranger remarked casually.

Jigen coughed for a moment, still scowling. "Oh, how'd you fucking guess."

"Call it a hunch," the demon -- no, not a demon, they don't exist -- just grinned at him. "So what would you say if I gave you a choice about how this goes down?"

"You're kidding."

One of the cultists started to protest, but the stranger silenced them with a wave of his hand. "Nope, dead serious."

Jigen narrowed his eyes at the choice of words. "...I'm listening."

"Well, the way I see it, one of two things can happen here. Either I play along with these lovely folks," he made a wide gesture at the cultists, "Which involves attaching myself to one of them and killing you to seal the deal…" He leaned in to accentuate his point by tapping Jigen on the forehead, earning another vicious look that was once again ignored. _"Or…_ we could flip the script."

When he only received a skeptical look in answer, the stranger stood up straight again, hands in his pockets and that smile somehow getting even more dangerous. "And by _flip the script,_ of course I mean binding myself to _your_ soul, killing off these guys, and then we… hang out."

Before he could question why the man made "hang out" sound so ominous, one of the cultists stumbled forward.

"M-my lord! You can't! We--"

The stranger turned his head slightly and the temperature in the room dropped like a rock, making the cultists all recoil from the ice in his stare.

"Don't interrupt."

He spoke softly, but somehow the words echoed around the room, fading into silence as he let his gaze linger another few seconds before turning his attention back to Jigen. 

"Now then," the smile was back, as though nothing had happened, "I'll be straight with you: this is very much a 'deal with the devil' kind of situation, but at this point… it doesn't look like you've got much to lose."

It took a moment to shake off the lingering cold, but soon Jigen's skeptical frown was back. "What, so you're trying to tell me you're Satan?"

The stranger laughed, making everyone else in the room flinch. "Fuck no! I'm not that important. Just a demon giving you a choice."

Slipping one hand from his pocket, the man snapped his fingers, and all the restraints fell off of Jigen, severed just like the gag. He reached out with that hand, silently expectant.

"So, what's it gonna be? Live or die?"

If this was real, if this was actually happening… What the fuck did 'binding to his soul' mean? How does an actual _demon_ 'hang out?' 

_Live or die?_

There was no time to think, he could practically feel his chances slipping away with every passing second. What kind of fucking decision was this, anyway? 

_Live or die?_

Stories about deals with the devil never worked out well for the gullible human, but…

_Live or die?_

Fuck.

The demon's eyes lit up as he took the outstretched hand.

* * *

"You got anything to write on?"

Jigen looked back over his shoulder at the demon as he reclaimed his gun from the bodies strewn around the warehouse. The manner in which the cultists had all been swiftly and violently slaughtered should have bothered him, as should the stench of blood and the thought of how they had screamed. It should have bothered him that no normal person could have done what the stranger did, and it made everything suddenly feel all too real. It should have, but his mind had already taken shelter behind the familiarity of death, putting him on autopilot and desperately smothering any fear, any horror he should have felt.

Instead, he just said, "What?"

"Something to write on," the demon repeated, pacing along the edge of the ritual circle and peering at a smear that had once been a person. "Anything we can jot down a contract on."

The mention of a contract somehow made him feel a little better about the situation; it was a lot easier if he thought of this as just another deal with an employer, rather than selling his soul to a demon. Contracts he knew, contracts were familiar.

They just needed something to write it on.

Absently checking various pockets, Jigen paused at the touch of some kind of paper, and pulled out a crumpled receipt from a couple days ago -- liquor, unsurprisingly.

"That'll do," the demon noticed him flattening the receipt and beckoned him back over.

He raised an eyebrow as the demon pulled a pen from an inner pocket of his jacket. "So you carry a pen with you, but no paper?"

The stranger made a face at him, far less threatening than he'd been when he first arrived. "Well usually there's already a basic contract written up for me, I just have to edit it a bit." He paused and gestured to one of the corpses. "Drag that over here, would ya?"

"What, too high and mighty to do it yourself?"

"I can't leave the circle til we do this."

Jigen gave a look of mock-thoughtfulness. "So you're saying I could just leave and you couldn't chase me…"

"You wouldn't make it ten feet and you know it, now c'mon Jigen."

"Yeah yeah, I--" the human sighed, but cut himself off mid-sentence and looked up with a frown. "Wait. I didn't tell you my name."

"You didn't have to, I recognized you as soon as I got here."

_"What?"_

The demon huffed and raised an eyebrow at him. "Jigen, you kill people for a living, and you're damn good at it. Do you have any idea how many souls you've sent to Hell over the years?"

He only had to pause for half a second for the statement to sink in. "...Oh."

"Exactly. We tend to notice people who kill as much as you do. You're good for business. Honestly, that's probably why these guys targeted you to begin with, because it would impress me." A small smile played at the demon's mouth. "It worked a little _too_ well, but that's not my problem. Now _c'mon."_

He had no answer to that, so he simply seized a torso and dragged it across the floor to the circle.

Using the corpse's back as a makeshift writing desk, the demon didn't take long to scribble a few sentences in small, flowing letters outlining the basic deal. It stated that Jigen would agree to be the anchor keeping the demon on Earth, and they would share the profits of whatever ventures the pair of them undertook together -- almost like a partnership, which would have been unusual to him even without the whole soul binding thing. Still, there wasn't anything blatantly screwing him over as far as he could tell, so he wasn't complaining.

The only thing that made him pause was the name the demon had written down.

"Lupin?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Not as… fancy as I expected," Jigen admitted with a shrug.

"Well hey, if you'd rather use one of my longer titles…"

"No no no, this is fine."

The demon handed him the pen, and he found it felt heavier than he expected. But no turning back now; he'd rather not end up part of the gorey mess strewn around the room.

He stared at his own signature as he held out the pen, and he could practically _feel_ Lupin’s smile as the demon plucked it from his fingers and returned it to his pocket.

“Okay,” Lupin patted him on the shoulder and ignored the way he flinched. “You’re gonna wanna sit down for this.”

“What? Why wou--”

He had no time to finish his question, as all of a sudden something unseen _yanked_ at his chest, as though trying to pull his ribcage forward out of his body. The air was punched from his lungs and he stumbled, dropping to the floor as a tingling sensation washed over him and slowly ebbed away. When he looked up, Lupin was seated on the concrete in front of him, grimacing and coughing. 

“Oof, that part always sucks,” the demon remarked once he’d caught his breath.

Jigen just stared at him.

 _“What the fuck?!”_ he gasped, struggling to sit up. _“What the fuck was that?!”_

“What, did you think tying your soul to a being from another plane of existence would just happen without you feeling anything?”

It took a moment to find words in response to that. “I… don’t know?! But maybe give more than half a second of warning before… whatever the fuck that was!”

“Oh don’t be a baby,” Lupin tutted as he got to his feet. “It’s over anyway, now let’s go. We should make plans.”

Jigen scowled at him, but wasn’t going to argue against leaving the warehouse. Someone would eventually find the grisly scene, and he really didn’t want to be hanging around to see how a demon deals with the police. He could only handle watching so many horrible deaths in one day.

As they stepped out into the fresh air (or as fresh as the air in a big city could be), Jigen blinked and suddenly things were different. The horns, tail, and pointed ears that had all marked Lupin as something extraordinary had simply vanished, leaving what looked like a more or less normal person with questionable taste in jackets. Still attracting attention, but at least this was _somewhat_ more low-key. 

“Before you get too excited,” Jigen waited for the demon to look at him to confirm he was listening. “I do still have an… obligation to some people in this country.”

“Don’t worry about them, I’ll negotiate.”

“Negotiate?” 

The demon nodded and shot him a smirk. “Uh-huh. I’ve got too much for us to do to have you running errands for someone else.”

He swallowed a protest about how he didn’t exactly ‘run errands’ for anybody, because there was a more pressing matter at hand.

“What kinda shit _are_ you gonna do, anyway? Plot to conquer the world or something? ‘Cause I’ll tell you right now, I ain’t doin’ that.”

“Psh, no. Conquest isn’t my thing,” Lupin snorted, pausing at the corner to let the human lead the way now that they were entering the city proper. 

“So what is?”

The demon’s face split into a grin, and his eyes lit up in a way Jigen hadn’t seen before, with such wicked delight that it stopped him in his tracks.

“Well Jigen, how do you feel about robbery?”


	2. What's Puzzling You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for more of this nonsense while I bounce between writing multiple fics at the same time, very very slowly. This AU has a special, wonky little place in my heart, because I've been thinking about it for months, so I'll keep picking away at it after hopefully finishing a chapter for my other work. Hopefully.

Yata checked the clock for the third time in five minutes, nervously tapping the side of his glass of water. The appointed time for the meeting was fast approaching, meaning he wouldn't be alone at his table for much longer -- though what might happen from there he couldn't begin to guess. He would stay on guard just in case, but somehow, despite everything, he was inclined to believe in Zenigata Kouichi.

How long had it been since the inspector appeared? _He's been here all along, don't you remember?_ It couldn’t have been more than a couple days, but it was hard to be sure through the strange haze that clouded his mind whenever he thought about it. _You’ve worked with him for years, of course._ All he was sure of was that for some reason, everyone at the ICPO offices seemed convinced that Zenigata had been around for ages, and even he struggled to remind himself of the inspector’s suspicious arrival. Everyone he had mentioned it to looked at him like he was insane, all believing the strange lie, and when he checked the computer systems, Zenigata even had a file stating he had been working there for years. 

But Yata knew, he _knew_ he wasn't crazy. Even though he had no real explanation as to why, he was sure that something was wrong. He kept looking for any sort of clue, and it wasn't long before Zenigata caught on, cornering him in an empty hallway. But instead of starting a confrontation, all he did was hand Yata a piece of paper with an address and a time on it.

"You want answers, right?" He had said, silencing any attempts at denial. "I'll give them to you, but not here."

And just like that, before Yata could regain his voice, the inspector had strode off down the hall and vanished.

It was entirely possible that this was a set-up, but he had no leads and too many questions, so he had gone to the café at the address Zenigata gave him, and watched the clock as the time ticked on.

“I’m glad you came.”

The sudden voice from behind him made Yata nearly jump out of his chair. How had he not noticed Zenigata walking over like that? 

Hiding his embarrassment with a nod, Yata watched the inspector stride around to the other side of the table and sit down, his expression turning serious and thoughtful. The silence lingered, the civilian chatter around them somehow becoming quieter, almost muffled -- but before Yata could properly notice, Zenigata looked up and fixed him with an intense stare. 

“So, it seems you noticed something you shouldn’t have,” he said, making Yata tense with the implication. 

He wouldn’t be intimidated that easily, though. “I suppose I did... Who are you really?”

“That’s a more complicated question than you realize,” Zenigata sighed. “But first, I want to make one thing clear: I’m not your enemy. I came to Interpol to hunt down a dangerous man that your officers can’t handle alone.”

That drew a skeptical frown to Yata’s face, a little insulted by the suggestion. “That doesn’t tell me who you are.”

“Well, the thing is… Neither the man I’m chasing or myself are… well, human.”

Yata blinked. 

“Are you religious at all?” Zenigata continued, looking a bit embarrassed by the blank stare. “Because I’m a sort of… guardian spirit, I suppose. The angels keep saying I could be counted as one of them, but that’s…” He realized he was rambling and shook his head.

“Angels.” Yata repeated. “You seriously want me to believe that."

The inspector huffed in exasperation. “Every century it gets harder and harder to convince people… Yes, I want you to believe that. I want you to believe because I may need your help.”

This was insane. When Yata came here, he’d expected some kind of secret agency or… well, _something_ that made scientific sense, rather than spirits and angels. He would disregard the whole thing as mad ramblings, if it wasn’t for the strange state of his coworkers and the fog in his head that kept trying to convince him he’d known Zenigata for years. It didn’t add up; it _couldn’t_ add up. 

“Then what’s so special about me?” Yata didn’t bother to hide his skepticism. “There are plenty of officers you could go to.”

“You saw through the illusion.”

He frowned as two and two clicked together in his head. “The illusion where you…”

Zenigata nodded curtly. “Yes. It’s very rare for a human to be able to do that, but it does happen from time to time. Didn’t think someone at Interpol would have that talent…”

“And that means you need me for this… mission?”

“Well, it means you could also see through the demon’s illusions.”

And now there were demons. This kept getting more outlandish and confusing, but Zenigata still seemed so sincere about it, and Yata found himself wondering how the inspector still didn’t seem to recognize how absurd the entire story sounded.

“The… demon?” he inquired hesitantly, and Zenigata nodded as he leaned back to rummage in his coat pockets.

“The person I’m chasing is a demon, and a real dangerous one at that. He… Aha!” The inspector paused as he seemed to find what he was looking for. “He loves using disguises, but ordinarily he looks like this.”

Yata wasn’t sure what he expected when Zenigata set a photograph down on the table between them, but it certainly wasn’t this. The picture was old, looking like it was from either the late 60’s or early 70’s, of a skinny man with a long face, the vibrant color of his suit jacket showing through the somewhat faded photo. He certainly didn’t look demonic, or even dangerous for that matter, though Yata had long since learned that appearances can be deceiving when it comes to criminals. 

Still, it was hard to believe the man in the picture was some sort of threatening demon who needed to be hunted down. 

Zenigata was frowning down at the photo, still very serious. “If his usual patterns hold true, he’ll be going by the name Arsène Lupin.”

“So... is he a terrorist or something?”

“No, he’s a thief.”

Yata paused. Some awful dangerous demon who needed to be hunted down was… just a thief?

The look on his face must have showed he was unimpressed, as Zenigata leaned forward and fixed him with another intense stare. “That may not sound like much, but he wreaks havoc everywhere he goes, and has no problem killing anybody in his way. If he’s left alone, there’s no telling how much damage he’ll do.”

Before Yata could so much as open his mouth to ask another question, the sound of an explosion boomed from an office building across the street. 

They both leapt to their feet as a huge cloud of smoke erupted from the building, followed by shouting and gunfire that almost drowned out the panic of the surrounding citizens. Two men burst out of the smoke, pursued by more flying bullets, but as they tore down the street past the café, they seemed more interested in snapping at each other than worrying about being shot. 

“What the _fuck_ was that?!”

“Look, even I make mistakes sometimes!”

“You said you had it under control!”

“I thought I did! Don’t be a dick about it, Jigen!”

Yata’s eyes widened as the pair sprinted by. One of them was a thin man with a long face, wearing a colorful suit jacket and looking like he hadn’t aged a day from when the old photograph was taken. 

“I-isn’t that--” he turned to Zenigata, but the inspector’s eyes were already locked on the man, almost seeming to slowly inflate as his expression turned to a fierce glare. Before Yata could finish his sentence, the tension reached a breaking point and Zenigata took off, leaving Yata to scramble after him as a number of armed thugs emerged from the office building to join the chase. 

The mad pursuit whirled around a corner and through a maze of back alleys, chasing shadows and ducking away from angry shouts. The sounds of the thugs grew farther away, but with one last turn the officers both stumbled to a halt as they suddenly found themselves staring down the barrel of a gun, pointed between Zenigata’s eyes with the quiet intensity of a practiced killer. One glance was enough to tell Yata not to bother even trying to draw his weapon, not if he wanted the inspector left alive.

But Zenigata’s gaze wasn’t on the man who was one finger twitch away from splattering his brains across the alley wall -- in fact, the inspector barely seemed to notice him. His eyes were fixed on the car behind his attacker, or more specifically on the second man hunched over in the driver’s seat, apparently trying to hotwire the vehicle. 

“Lupin, company.” The first man called to his companion, who looked up over the dashboard with a confused frown.

“Then why aren’t you just ki--” he started complaining, but as soon as he set eyes on Zenigata, he cut himself off and his face lit up in delight. “Why Pops! I didn’t think you’d be here already! Usually takes at least a week for you to catch up!”

The inspector just glared. “What are you up to, Lupin.”

The demon shrugged and resumed his work hotwiring the car, speaking without looking at them. “The same thing as always, Pops. Stealing things and having fun, you know the drill.”

“I don’t care if it’s _fun,_ you belong back in Hell!” Zenigata snapped.

“Well yeah, but you and I both know I never stay where I belong.”

Zenigata bristled, but the car rumbled to life before he could respond, drawing a pleased “aha!” from Lupin. 

“Hate to cut the reunion short, Pops, but we’ve gotta run,” the thief smirked as he settled into his seat. “C’mon Jigen, before the meatheads catch up!”

The demon’s companion didn’t budge, huffing in annoyance. “So am I shooting this guy or what?”

“I mean you _can...”_

That was all he needed to hear. A sharp bang, and Zenigata fell back with a bullet through the head, caught before he hit the ground by an alarmed Yata. 

Lupin blinked. “...But it won’t work for long,” he finished his sentence, a little bemused but not upset.

His partner only scoffed as he jumped into the car, drawing a sidelong frown from Lupin.

“Are you _still_ mad?”

 _“Yes_ I’m still mad!”

“Oh lighten up! I’ll get you something on the way back!”

With one last irritated grumble from the marksman, the car reversed out of the alley before tearing off down the street, the scream of tires fading away among the cries of startled civilians.

Zenigata was dead, and Yata could hear the gangsters getting louder as they made their way through the tangling alleyways. He needed to move, to get back to headquarters and track those two down, but he couldn’t just leave the inspector’s body behind.

The body that was… growling?

Yata fell back as Zenigata snapped upright, shaking his head as though he’d been hit by a stun gun rather than shot through the head. He scrambled to his feet and wiped the blood from his forehead with the back of his hand, tossing the bullet aside before turning back to Yata, still lying on the ground in shock.

“Did you see which way they went?!”

* * *

Despite being a demon (and apparently a shitty negotiator), Lupin was true to his word, stopping along the way to appease his still-fuming partner. He'd already learned that good alcohol was an easy way to ease Jigen's annoyance, and the demon had no problem taking advantage of that. It was a weakness, sure, but when Lupin sprang for something _really_ top-shelf, the human couldn't really make himself care. If Lupin wanted to spend that much to get him in a better mood, he wasn't going to argue.

...Wait.

"Lupin," he cast a sidelong frown at the demon as they made their way down the crowded sidewalk to where Lupin claimed he had a new car stashed away. "Didn't you say yesterday you don't have any modern money?"

"Yeah, Hell doesn't exactly have banks."

"But you just paid cash."

Lupin chuckled. "Why do you think I parked so far away? I was picking everyone's pockets the whole time."

"Every…"

"Jigen, I'm _magic,_ remember?" Lupin patted his shoulder condescendingly, earning an elbow to the ribs. "If _that_ impresses you, you're gonna be blown away Saturday night."

That made Jigen pause. 

"What's Saturday night?" he asked slowly, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

"We're stealing a Roman jewelry collection."

Before Jigen could properly react, they rounded a corner onto a backstreet where a single car was parked. A little yellow Fiat, in decent shape despite looking like a fairly old model, with a small piece of paper stuck under the windshield wipers that bore a caricature of Lupin's face.

Suddenly the jewelry was pushed to the back burner. 

"What is _that."_ Jigen raised an eyebrow at the dinky vehicle.

Lupin looked back at him with a huff, plucking the paper from the windshield and pulling a key from his jacket. "It's my car, don't be rude."

"I'm gonna be rude."

"Oh shut up and get in," the demon unlocked the doors with a scowl.

"Are we both gonna fit? It's like a glorified clown car."

_"Jigen."_

"Okay okay," he sighed, but couldn't keep a straight face looking at how indignant Lupin was. "It's just that when you said we could ditch the stolen car 'cause you had another ride, I thought…"

Another glare finally silenced him, but didn't remove the smirk from his face.

"Wait til it saves your stupid life, then we'll see how you feel," Lupin grumbled as he started the engine.

"Yeah, we'll see."

* * *

Days later, Jigen was really hoping Lupin hadn't been bluffing about the Fiat.

The demon got them inside the museum easily enough, using regular old disguises to replace a pair of janitors they had knocked out, and none of the guards looked twice at them as they made their way in. Lupin had cased the place and knew exactly where the display of the ancient jewelry was, so it was just a matter of not looking suspicious as they cleaned their way to the room in question. So far so good.

But when they were replacing the last of the pieces with fakes and tucking the real jewelry into cases in a trash bin, the door slammed open.

_“Lupin!”_

They nearly jumped out of their skin, whipping around to stare wide-eyed at the familiar face standing in the doorway.

“You shouldn’t barge in on people like that, Pops,” Lupin laughed once the initial shock faded. “What if we’d dropped some of these priceless antiques in surprise and they broke?”

Rather than grace that with a response, Zenigata made a sharp hand gesture and suddenly from behind him a horde of policemen stormed into the room, weapons at the ready. No words needed to be exchanged for the criminals to turn and scramble for the nearest exit, only pausing long enough to grab the trash can. 

“How the fuck did he know we’d be here?!” Jigen hissed as they skidded around a corner.

“Well I tipped him off, but I didn’t think he’d go full offense so quick…”

The human nearly stopped in his tracks, if not for the bullets still flying at them. “You _what?!”_

“It’d be too easy otherwise!” Lupin insisted.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“We’re _fine!_ Just run!”

Several revolver rounds fired back at the police made their pursuers hesitate at the corner, buying them a few seconds for Lupin to shoot out the nearest window as an impromptu exit. The trash can of loot was slung out first, then after a few more gunshots at the cops both thieves followed suit, leaping into the night. 

Now it was up to that stupid little clown car to get them out of there in one piece. Lupin seemed confident, but Jigen had already learned that the demon seemed confident almost all the time, even when he had no reason to be. They barely managed to stuff the loot into the backseat before Zenigata and his boy scout came sprinting out of the building with the police in tow, so it wasn’t like they had much of a headstart; but Lupin was already cackling like a maniac as soon as he started the car. The human was starting to understand why Lupin had told Zenigata his purpose on earth was to steal things and have fun, with an emphasis on the ‘have fun’ part. 

Despite his misgivings, all he could do at that point was hang on for the ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe at some point I'll have a chance to delve more into the workings of how the Fiat appears places...


End file.
